


the stars danced around so bright (two loving arms held me tight)

by thylionheart



Series: if my heart was a house, you'd be home [13]
Category: A Wrinkle in Time (2018), Kairos (O'Keefe) Series - Madeleine L'Engle
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Middle School, Mild Language, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Post-Movie, Rated T for Mild Language, School Dances, Slow Dancing, implied/referenced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thylionheart/pseuds/thylionheart
Summary: Two chapters, two days, two dates.Second chapter posted!*not a standalone*





	1. dancing like we're made of starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucy_aka_KnifeDad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_aka_KnifeDad/gifts), [findcomfortinastranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/findcomfortinastranger/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg & Calvin go to the semi-formal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's been ages since I've updated. Life has gotten in the way, as has waxing and waning inspiration. I still have a lot of words written for this series, so while I might be a slow updater, I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon.
> 
> This chapter is very cheesy (it's hard not to be cheesy with a school dance, lol), so I leaned into it. I'm really, really enjoying writing scenes from Veronica's perspective and developing her characterization as well as the world that these characters live in, so this won't be the last time you get her perspective.
> 
> Thank you to Lucina, who helped me with the Spanish in this chapter, as well as Quinny, who listens to me ramble about this series on a near-daily basis ♥︎
> 
> The fic's title is from Walkin' on the Moon by Tom Russell, and the chapter title is from Starlight by Taylor Swift.

* * *

 

Calvin sat on the edge of his bed in the Murry’s guest bedroom, dressed in his old navy suit. He had outgrown the suit last year, but hopefully the black socks he was wearing would make it less obvious that his pants came to a stop a full inch above his ankle. One of the buttons on his jacket needed to be sown on tighter. If he wasn’t careful, it’d pop off.

He hadn’t told the Drs. Murry that he needed a new suit, especially not since Meg’s dress had cost as much as it did. The Murrys had done so much for him already; Calvin couldn’t bring himself to ask them for more.

And yet, in his hands, he held more.

Not twenty minutes earlier, Dr. Kate had come down from the attic, where she had been helping Meg get ready for the dance, and handed him a small grey box, a knowing smile gracing her face. Calvin hadn’t opened it yet, but he knew that inside he would find his new tie—and subsequently discover the color of Meg’s dress. He didn’t know why he was so excited to find out the color, but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t stop grinning. Whatever the color, he knew Meg would look beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the lid off the box. A blush-pink cotton tie sat inside. His smile grew wider as he imagined this color on Meg and how sublimely it would compliment her skin and eyes.

Now, if only he knew how to tie a tie.

 

* * *

 

“Dr. Alex?”

Meg’s father looked up from the mess of papers strewn across the kitchen island and smiled. “Hey, lookin’ good, kiddo.”

Calvin returned the smile, both out of genuine happiness and a sense of irony. He looked more disheveled than good, with his tie in his hand and the collar of his white button-up loose. Only his hair, which he had spent a good fifteen minutes combing into an attractive coif, looked neat. “Thanks. I’d probably look even better if I could figure out how to get this stupid tie on, though.”

“Ah, I hate those things. Well, let me see what I can do.”

It soon became apparent that Dr. Alex didn't know how to tie a tie, either. He tried to maneuver the cotton tie into a semblance of a knot for nearly ten minutes, but his attempts were even sloppier than Calvin’s.

“That looks ghastly,” said a voice behind Dr. Alex. Calvin peered past his girlfriend’s father and saw Charles Wallace watching from the doorway.

“New word for the day?” Calvin guessed with a chuckle.

“Yesterday’s, actually. Didn’t get a chance to use it then.” The young boy strolled over and tugged on his father’s sweater. “May I?”

Nodding, Dr. Alex hefted his son up onto the island so he had easy access to Calvin’s tie. Charles Wallace took the pink fabric in his small hands, pinched his lips together in concentration, and began tying. His fingers were deft and sure, and Calvin watched in awe as he completed the knot in less than a minute.

“There,” Charles Wallace said proudly, tightening the tie. “All finished.”

Dr. Alex turned Calvin around to look. His mouth dropped open. “Charles, where’d you learn to do that?”

“Mommy. It’s called an El…um, Eldredge knot.”

“It’s incredible. Calvin, go look in the mirror.”

Calvin hurried into the washroom to see Charles Wallace’s handiwork for himself. When he looked in the mirror, his eyes widened. The knot was unlike any he had ever seen before. The Eldredge knot, as Charles Wallace had called it, looked more like a Dutch braid than a knot, the plait symmetrical and absolutely immaculate.

Charles Wallace appeared in the doorway. “Do you like it?”

“Sport, this is perfect!” Calvin hoisted the kid up into his arms and gave him a hug. “Thank you so much. It’s amazing.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Charles Wallace quipped. He patted the older boy’s cheek. “Now, finish getting ready. I won’t have you leave my sister waiting.”

 

* * *

 

With twenty minutes until the doors at the dance opened, Calvin stood at the bottom of the stairs. Pinching the starfish charm on his bracelet between his thumb and forefinger, he rocked back and forth on his heels, anticipation causing his heart to race. Next to him stood Dr. Alex and Charles Wallace. Dr. Kate was still upstairs and had texted her husband to let him know that Meg was ready.

Footsteps resounded at the top of the stairs. Calvin’s stomach flipped with nerves, but it was only Dr. Kate. She practically skipped down the steps, a large grin on her face. When she reached the bottom, she patted Calvin’s cheek.

“Oh, you look so handsome, honey. Meg is going to be moonstruck.” She glanced at his tie, then turned to her son and stroked his hair. “Beautiful job with the Eldredge knot.”

Charles Wallace beamed.

After taking the camera from her husband, Dr. Kate called up to the second floor, “Alright, Meg, we’re ready!”

Excitement shivered across Calvin’s skin. He had to force himself to remember to breathe.

The first thing he saw was Meg’s hand on the stair rail. Then, slowly, she stepped into view. Soft pink fabric cascaded to the floor, making her look taller than normal even though she was wearing ballet flats. Dr. Kate had tied her hair half up, half down, with braids curving above both her ears to meet at the back of her head. Her bangs bounced around her glasses as she descended the stairs. A tiny, shy smile adorned her face.

Calvin knew he was gawking, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. In the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of a camera.

Meg reached the bottom of the stairs. She walked up to Calvin shyly, fiddling with the bracelet he had given her. “Hi.”

Awe tied Calvin’s tongue; he was far too mesmerized by the way the dress flattered every inch of her body to speak. It revealed much more of her skin than any of the outfits she normally wore and he felt warmth crawl up the back of his neck. He hoped Dr. Alex didn’t notice his eyes linger.

“I see Charles Wallace tied your tie,” his girlfriend remarked.

Calvin could only blink.

Meg pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “Stars, Cal, say something.”

“Wow.”

A giggle slipped out of her mouth and she ducked her head. He pulled her hands away from her face.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Meg,” he whispered.

Grinning wide, she placed her hands on his chest and smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, too.”

Calvin wanted so badly to kiss her then, but since her family was standing right there he settled for kissing her cheek.

Charles Wallace came over, a large smile on his face and two plastic boxes in his hands. Both held white carnations; a corsage and a boutonniere. The small boy presented them with a flourish. He had his own boutonniere pinned to his grey button-up.

The couple took the flowers from him. Meg gave her little brother a hug before setting to work pinning the boutonniere on Calvin’s suit jacket.

“Do you think a vest is too formal for a semi-formal?” he asked her.

“Maybe, but I don’t think anyone will care.” Meg peeked up at him over her glasses, and Calvin noticed for the first time that she was wearing mascara. It made her eyes more visible through the thick lenses of her glasses. “Besides, I think it makes you look like a spy or something.”

“More like I’m about to go to my first communion.”

“Like a good Irish boy.”

“Ha-ha.”

Once Calvin had put Meg’s corsage on her wrist, Dr. Kate arranged them in front of the staircase for a photo op. Excitement had Calvin and Meg giggling for most of the photos; after a couple minutes, Charles Wallace joined them in frame, taking hold of their hands and grinning wildly.

Finally, Dr. Kate set up the camera on a tripod, turned on the timer, and took one last photo of the entire family. Dr. Alex patted Calvin’s shoulder and smiled down at him seconds before the camera flashed.

“Show her a good time, son.”

 

* * *

 

The sun had already set when Meg’s parents dropped them off at the dance, only two minutes past six o’clock. Cars packed the gym parking lot and students milled about outside, talking and laughing and posing for pictures. Meg clutched her purse close to her side, her eyes darting around the crowd.

Inside the foyer of the gym sat an admission table. James Baldwin students only had to pay $10, but dates from different schools had to fork over $15. Meg and Calvin fished out their student IDs as they waited in line. A banner hanging across the trophy case beneath the table announced the dance’s theme: _A Royal Ball._

As their class’ president, Calvin had helped plan the dance, though his role had been far less significant than others due to his basketball commitments. But he had helped set up the gym and had even voted on the theme. Meg thought it was quite campy, especially the student council’s decision to have the student body vote for and crown a king and queen. What was the point? It wasn’t homecoming or prom; the entire concept was purely a popularity contest.

In the back of her mind, Meg knew her annoyance regarding the coronation had more to do with the fact that Calvin would most likely be voted the king, and she had no chance at being voted the queen. But she tried not to think about that. So what if Calvin and another girl wore matching plastic crowns and shared a single dance? It didn’t mean anything.

She touched the bracelet he had given her and pressed the engraving against her skin. Then Calvin’s hand touched her elbow, startling her.

“You okay?”

“Oh. Uh, just nervous.”

His thumb brushed against her skin. “There’s still time to go home if you want.”

That made Meg stiffened defensively. “I’m not gonna chicken out.”

“Meg,” Calvin chided, poking the back of her arm, “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what it sounded like you were saying,” she grumbled.

“It’s not cowardly to decide that you’d rather hang out at home than be here.”

It took all of Meg’s efforts to suppress a groan. “Maybe not to you, but to people like Tristan and Lorna, it is.”

Calvin’s fingers skimmed down her arms to her wrist before he entwined their hands together. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

Meg’s anxiety ebbed at his supportive words. She sighed, squeezing his hand. “Thanks. Now…” She straightened her back as they reached the front of the line, “…let’s do this.”

The light inside the gym was dim. A few purple-and-yellow balloon columns stood at the corners of the room, alternating the school’s colors. To the right of the door was a photo booth with an array of props and signs. As Meg looked, Dave Peyton and Bryanna McCormick posed together in front of a black backdrop. Though they looked like a cute couple, watching them plaster on smiles and press close to each other made Meg feel like a creep. She glanced away and tried to find something else for her eyes to focus on, but everywhere she looked she felt like she was intruding on someone else's private moment.

Meg's gaze bounced around the room, from the refreshment table to what must've constituted the “DJ booth”—which seemed to only be Mrs. Estrella manning a MacBook and the gym's speaker system—and finally to the bleachers, where small clusters of students sat and mingled. Half of her classmates already appeared to be having fun, but the other half stood around awkwardly, staring at their phones or scouring the crowd for their friends. Chaperones, both teachers and parents, patrolled the gym to make sure no students were engaged in illicit activities.

A ways away from the door hovered Veronica and Jaime with Miguel, Adriana, and Isaiah Ackerman. Based on Adriana and Isaiah's matching red dress and tie, respectively, Meg figured they must be each other's date. Miguel seemed to be the odd one out; his tie was black and he wasn't wearing a boutonniere.

With her yellow, strapless, floor-length dress, overlaid with sheer floral lace, Veronica looked like Belle from  _Beauty and the Beast_. A slit ran from her mid-thigh down to the floor. Over her shoulders and arms, she wore an off-white shawl, and she kept tugging it tighter and tighter around herself. Jaime, who looked chic in his grey suit and yellow floral tie, could hardly keep his eyes off of her.

When Jaime spotted Calvin, he waved at his best friend and beckoned him over. Calvin shot a questioning glance at Meg, who nodded her approval and squeezed his hand. Together they drifted over to Jaime and Veronica; on the way, Deandre Reid and his date, Penelope Zhang, a member of the pep band, joined them. Deandre gave Meg a polite, obligatory nod, which she returned, but Penelope smiled and complimented her.

“Your dress is so pretty!”

Meg hesitated a moment, trying to determine whether or not Penelope’s words were genuine. The Chinese girl’s voice didn’t hold any of the chalky insincerity Meg had grown used to, and so she returned her classmate’s smile. “Thanks. I…I like your lipstick.”

Penelope’s lips were painted a lavender-grey, which somehow looked both subtly sophisticated and spunky. Her eyes brightened and her smile widened. “Thank you! My sister talked me into it. She did my hair, too.” She brushed her thick, black, iron-curled hair forward to show off the ringlets.

By now, their small group had merged with Jaime’s. Veronica jumped into their conversation, telling Penelope, “It looks like you got it done at a salon! I wish my hair could hold curls like that.”

Another exchange of compliments and thanks occurred. After, Penelope glanced at Veronica’s shawl and asked, “Oh, are you cold?”

“Hm? Oh.” Veronica huffed a laugh and ducked her head. “I mean, a little. Mostly I’m just…hiding. It’s what I get for wearing a strapless dress.”

Meg couldn’t help but frown at that. Why would Veronica want to hide her body? Her dress wasn’t even revealing. Not to mention, she was incredibly well-figured; she had been an early bloomer, the first girl in their class to start wearing a bra. Meg had felt so envious back then—and still, even in this moment, felt it deep in her heart—as had the rest of their female peers.

She tried not to let herself wish she had Veronica’s curves; after all, hadn’t she decided in the IT’s mind to accept herself as she was? Yet some battles were to be fought not once but daily, and as Meg looked at Veronica, she couldn’t deny her envy.

Images from the Happy Medium’s vision floated to the forefront of her mind, but she immediately shoved them away. No—she had weakened the IT and, in doing so, had freed Veronica from the darkness. If she was now renouncing her old ways and seeking to be a better person, that meant that she was also turning away from that awful, restrictive diet.

A part of Meg pinched at herself, scolding her and telling her, _No, don’t fool yourself_ , but she shook the thought away. The IT no longer held Veronica in its grasp. Her penitent actions toward Meg had proven that. There was nothing to worry about.

Right?

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes after the start of the event, Calvin socialized with his friends and basketball teammates while waiting for the coronation to begin. Beside him, Meg spoke up intermittently, mostly making comments to Calvin, Jaime, Veronica, and Penelope. A few members of the basketball team tried to make idle chat with her, but their efforts were half-hearted and they soon gave up, much to Meg’s obvious relief. For the most part, she kept close to Calvin, nervously fiddling with her bracelet or locket. He did his best to let her know with gentle touches here and there that he wasn’t ignoring her or forgetting about her. At one point, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, asking if she wanted to get away from the crowds. She shook her head and gave him a thankful smile.

The students had gathered into a large circle to await the announcement. Some kids had completely ignored Mrs. Estrella’s request to gather and remained in groups around the perimeter of the gym, chattering and ignoring the coronation. Meg inched closer to Calvin when classmates stepped into her personal space and he circled his arm around her waist.

As Priya Kaur and Booker Fielding—members of the student council and the event’s emcees—maneuvered to the media table to pick up mics, Deandre nudged Calvin’s side. “You’re totally gonna be king.”

“I dunno about that—”

“C’mon, dude, of course you are. I voted for you, and so did Jaime. I bet your teammates did too.”

A sheepishness warmed Calvin’s cheeks and he scratched the back of his neck. He felt like it was conceited of him to agree with Deandre, but he wasn’t naive. What he’d said was probably true. He wasn’t oblivious to his popularity.

It didn’t matter to him who was voted queen. He knew it likely wouldn’t be Meg, which saddened him, but one slow dance with a classmate wasn’t a big deal. It would probably be Adriana Gonzales—even during her time spent in Elle’s clique, Adriana had been and still was the most popular member. Most of their classmates had a good opinion of her. It wouldn’t be pleasant slow dancing with someone who had bullied his girlfriend, but Calvin decided that he could use the time to try and convince her to leave Meg alone. Adriana didn’t bully anyone else in their class but Meg; perhaps she had a misconception of his girlfriend that he could dissuade her of and, therefore, stop her from harassing Meg further. It was worth a shot.

Priya, the class vice president, swept her black blunt-cut bangs out of her eyes and raised a microphone to her mouth. “Hi guys, I hope you’re all having fun. As you know, we held elections earlier this week to crown a king and queen. Book and I here’ve got those results for you. Book?”

The short, stocky, dark-skinned class secretary presented two envelopes. He handed one to Priya, then grabbed a cheap plastic crown and tiara off the media table.

“To kick it off, our queen is…” Priya took a slip of paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. “…Monica Lang!”

Calvin’s heart jolted to a stop. Dread sunk into his bones, weighing down his limbs and making him feel heavier than an anvil. Beside him, Meg stiffened and cussed under her breath.

Booker opened the second envelope. “And our king is…”

_No, no, please, let Deandre be wrong…_

“…Calvin O’Keefe!”

His blood ran cold. He barely felt Meg squeeze his hand. Some of his friends whistled and the ones standing near him clapped him on the back, transporting him back to sixth grade; back to crashing teeth and hot breath and a disgusting confusion that twisted his stomach into knots.

Monica was smiling at him.

Calvin wanted to leave. He didn’t want to dance with Monica. He didn’t want her touching him, _holding_ him. But, he told himself, to refuse would be uncivil and everyone was watching them and this was all apart of playing the laws of the jungle, right? He’d traveled throughout the universe, survived his father’s abuse—he could endure a three minute dance with Monica Lang.

Before walking to the center of the circle, Calvin placed a lingering kiss to Meg’s cheek. Her gaze met his when he pulled away, face awash with concern. _You don’t have to do this_ , her eyes said. 

Didn’t he?

Their classmates clapped as Calvin and Monica walked up to Priya and Booker. Priya crowned Calvin while Booker crowned Monica. The crown felt light upon his head, too light to be such a burden. Numbly he followed Monica to the center of the circle. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her; instead, his eyes found Meg standing next to Jaime. She was pressing the metal of her bracelet into her wrist and watching him intently.

A hand touched Calvin’s arm and he couldn’t help but jump, startled. Monica smiled up at him, stepping close and resting her hands on his shoulders. She stood far, far closer than he would’ve liked. The scent of hairspray and vanilla perfume intermingled unpleasantly. Calvin tried not to scrunch his nose. 

Monica’s green, lacy, tea-length dress was in the style of a modern Chinese _qípáo,_ likely to reflect her father’s Chinese heritage. Hesitantly Calvin placed his hands on her waist. His stomach churned with anxiety; his entire body felt tight and tense, like a bowstring pulled taut.

A slow song began to play. Calvin recognized it, but he was far to ruffled to figure out what it was. He took a deep breath. This would all be over in three minutes—four at most. He could do this. Everything would be fine.

“You look very handsome,” Monica said, trying to catch his gaze. “As always.”

“Thanks,” Calvin replied shortly. It would be polite to compliment her back, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t give her the wrong idea.

“It’s been ages since we’ve talked.” The way she said the word _talked_ sounded like she meant something far more suggestive than a mere conversation.

“We’ve spoken during student council meetings.” That wasn’t exactly true. During meetings, Calvin would always make it a point to avoid talking to or even looking at Monica as best he could.

“Mmm, you know what I mean.” 

Calvin swallowed hard. His eyes flitted over her shoulder to look at Meg.

Monica noticed. “I sure was surprised when I heard you and Meg were dating. Thought for sure it was just a rumor. Up until you broke Tristan’s nose. I saw you do it, you know. Meg must worship you for it.” She tilted her head, pausing for a moment. “So I hope you didn’t make her think that she was your first kiss. That’d be cruel.”

Her voice held a tactful sympathy, but her eyes betrayed her. She couldn’t care less about Meg. She was inquiring for her own interests.

“No.” Swallowing, Calvin said quietly, “I told her what you did to me.”

“‘Did to you’?” Monica appeared genuinely surprised at his wording. “That’s a bit harsh.”

“I didn’t know you were going to kiss me, Monica. I didn’t _want_ you to kiss me.”

“Mmm.” Monica studied him with an arched eyebrow. “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that in case Meg hears you. She does seem like the jealous type.”

“She's not—”

“Oh, I love this part!” A smile spread across Monica’s face as the music reached its bridge. She stepped back and to the side. Calvin didn’t notice what she was up to until he glanced over her shoulder and realized that he couldn’t see his girlfriend anymore. Monica had turned them so that his back was now to Meg. 

“Calvin, you’re blushing,” Monica cooed.

Heat had indeed flushed his face, but out of frustration, not flirtation. “Trick of the lights.”

“Mmm. Sure.”

The song was a little over halfway done. Agitation made Calvin restless, to the point where he could hardly focus on anything except Monica—which, in turn, made him even more agitated. She kept humming, though her hums didn’t align with the melody of the song.

Her hand moved off his shoulder and crept up his neck. Calvin cringed, his shoulders shrugging slightly, as Monica began running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, right below the edge of the crown. Only Meg had touched him like this before, and her touch had always felt gentle and comforting. Monica’s touch felt greedy and as unpleasant as hot coals against his skin.

“Please stop that.”

“Stop what?”

_Stop being so sensitive._ His father’s voice resounded in his head, berating him, as harsh and full of vitriol as the day he had found out that Calvin had called CPS. _It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic._

Calvin closed his eyes. No. He wasn’t being sensitive. He wasn’t pathetic. He didn’t have to put up with this if he didn’t want to. The night that he’d told Meg about what Monica had done, Dr. Alex had affirmed this to him.

_You’re allowed to say no_.

If only he had been brave enough to say no to the dance in its entirety.

“Stop playing with my hair.”

Monica pouted. “Don’t you like it?”

“I don’t. Please stop.”

She didn’t. Her nails scratched against his scalp. Calvin tried not to shudder.

“Mmm,” Monica hummed again, “I know you like it. I’ve seen Meg do it before.”

That pushed him over the edge. He lurched away from her. “You’re not Meg!”

He hadn’t meant to shout. Everyone that had already been watching them dance now gawked at them. They may not have heard their conversation, but they would’ve had to have been blind to miss Monica’s fondling.

Monica’s hands still hovered in the air like she was too stunned to move. Redness flooded her cheeks and her eyes darted around at the crowd surrounding them.

“I have a girlfriend,” Calvin said in a low voice, but not so low that the people on the fringes of the crowd couldn’t hear him. “Please stop flirting with me like I don’t.” He walked away, leaving Monica alone in the center of the circle.

The song ended.

Calvin didn’t know how his feet carried him over to where Jaime stood with Veronica. He could barely see through the hot, furious tears welling in his eyes.

_Pathetic._

_No_. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of his father’s voice.

_You’re being a wimp. You’re such a sorry excuse for a man._

_No, I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m—_

“Calvin!”

Jaime’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His friend must’ve said his name several times, but he hadn’t heard him at all.

“Did you hear me? You okay?”

“Meg,” mumbled Calvin, “Where’s Meg?”

“I think she was trying to get to the other side of the circle—”

“I’m here.” Meg shouldered through the crowd. She stopped in front of him, her brow knit together in concern. “I heard you yell, are you o—?”

Calvin cut her off by grabbing her waist and kissing her. He didn’t care if the chaperones saw or if their classmates thought he was crazy. All his pent-up, frazzled energy begged for an outlet, and he ached to replace the feeling of Monica’s touch with Meg’s.

Meg recognized the desperation in his kiss. When he pulled away she touched his cheek and asked solemnly, “What’d she do?”

“I—I asked her to stop and she wouldn’t stop—”

“Stop what?”

“Touching me. My neck, my hair.”

_That’s all? You pansy. Grow a pair._

“Cal, you’re shaking.” 

She was right; a restless frustration still shook his hands. For a moment, Calvin seriously considered going outside and running laps around the parking lot.

“C’mon,” Meg grabbed his hand, “let’s go sit down.”

They didn’t get a chance to talk immediately after they sat. A few classmates, including Jaime, Veronica, Deandre, and Penelope, came over to check on him and express their concern.

“I can't believe Monica kept flirting with you,” said Penelope. Her braces flashed in the light as she spoke. “It was, like, so obvious that you were uncomfortable.”

Deandre frowned. “I couldn’t tell.”

“You didn’t see him get all squirmy when she touched his hair?” Jaime asked incredulously.

“But you still shouldn’t have ditched her,” Abby Byrne, a Model UN member like Monica, scolded Calvin. “You humiliated her in front of everyone! That wasn’t cool.”

Both Veronica and Jaime crossed their arms and scowled.

“Are you kidding?” said Veronica. “She _should_ feel humiliated. He has a girlfriend!”

Jaime picked up where she left off. “Of course he’s gonna book it if she gets handsy!”

Pressure grew and grew within Calvin’s chest until he could barely breathe. He snatched the crown off his head and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to rid himself of the feeling of Monica’s hands caressing his neck.

All of a sudden, Meg stood. “You guys need to leave,” she said brusquely. “You’re making it worse.”

Their classmates stared at her. Abby huffed and started to say something, but Calvin cut her off.

“Could you please? I want…I need to be alone with Meg for a bit.”

Jaime patted his shoulder, then ushered his friends away with Veronica’s help. As they left, Calvin heard Abby muttering.

“She’s so rude! How can he stand her?”

“Cut her some slack,” Jaime replied. “She’s just being protective.”

“More like possessive.”

If Meg heard anything they said, she ignored them. Once they were alone, Calvin came close to pulling her onto his lap, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want them to get admonished by a chaperone. Meg sat back down next to him and he took her hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” Calvin said. Shame knotted in his throat. “I didn’t mean to ruin tonight for you.”

“Hey.” Squeezing his hand, Meg said, “I’m the pessimist, remember?”

“I thought you preferred realist.”

She managed a light chuckle while Calvin tried to smile.

“Touché. What I’m trying to say, though, is that I expected that something would go wrong. I just thought that I’d be the one crying.” She wiped away a tear that he hadn’t realized had fallen. “Besides, we’ve only been here for half an hour. The night’s not ruined. We’ve still got two hours, if you wanna stay.”

“I do. Wanna stay, I mean. There’s no way I’m gonna let my only dance of the night be with Monica. I just need a little bit longer.”

Meg nodded. Calvin scooted closer and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Could you…” His voice faltered and he cleared his throat. “I just, um…I don’t wanna feel her anymore.”

Meg responded by gently brushing his hair out of his eyes, then tracing the freckles on his cheek, jaw, and neck. She knew him so well. She knew what buttons to push and what not; she knew where he was ticklish—his ears—where he would get jittery—his throat—and where he would melt—his jaw. Her fingers massaged his neck near the base of his skull, where he always seemed to get a crick, before combing through his hair and smoothing out stray locks.

Slowly the feeling of her touch replaced Monica’s. Lavender and rosemary replaced vanilla sugar. Meg noticed him relax and murmured, “Are you ready?”

Calvin made a noise that might’ve been a hum or a grunt. “I’m waiting for the next slow song.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A couple minutes later the current song changed and a gentle, melodic song that Calvin had never heard before began to play. He sat up, stretched his arms above his head, and stood.

“I’m ready if you are.”

Meg gazed at him, lips quirking upwards in excitement. Calvin offered her his hand and helped her stand, and together they walked onto the dance floor, the king's crown abandoned on the bleachers.

They stayed near the white-painted sidelines of the basketball court on the edge of what constituted the dance floor. The excitement in Meg’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a familiar nervousness. Earlier, when he’d kissed her, they had been in a dense crowd, relatively hidden from the majority of prying eyes. But now, beneath the bright lights, Calvin could tell that she felt exposed.

“I don’t know how to dance,” she whispered to him sheepishly.

“You kinda just hold each other and step side-to-side. Or, well, more like you sway side-to-side.”

“So, glorified hugging?”

Calvin laughed. “Basically.”

“Do I just…?” Meg curled her arms around his neck.

“Yep.” He took her waist in one hand, placing his other against the soft exposed skin between her shoulder blades. Meg shivered beneath his touch. “Is this okay?”

She gave him a nod and a breathless giggle. “I was, um, kinda hoping you’d do that.”

Grinning, Calvin skimmed his fingers up and down her back. At first Meg returned his wide smile, but then her eyes flickered to the side and her face fell. Calvin followed her gaze and saw that Monica, Abby, Emily Henderson, and Isabel Costello were huddled near the refreshment table, staring at them and talking amongst themselves. Beneath his fingertips, Meg tensed.

“It’s not just Monica, y’know. Most of the girls in our class have a crush on you.” Sadness colored her tone, but so did envy; whether she was envious of the girls for liking Calvin or of Calvin for being so generally well-liked, he couldn’t tell, but his best guess was the latter. 

“I don’t want that,” he told her sincerely. “Okay? I don’t want that.”

Meg’s brow pinched together. “I don't understand. Having a bunch of people crush on you, isn’t that supposed to be…I dunno, flattering?"

Frustration nagged at Calvin, but he tried to stuff it away. Understanding was normally born out of experience, so of course Meg didn’t understand. He was popular; she was not. In the same way that he didn’t know how it felt to be marginalized by their peers, she didn’t know how it felt to be idolized.

“Last year,” began Calvin, “I got like, three different letters in my locker on Valentine’s Day. Two were signed, one was anonymous. Each one confessed feelings for me. I ended up having to track those two girls down separately and let them down as easy as I could. Both of them cried.”

A frown had been curving Meg’s lips, but at his last statement pity filled her eyes.

“I hurt them, Meg. Because I didn’t share their feelings. They look at me and they see someone who they want but who doesn’t want them back, and that hurts them. Maybe jerks like Tristan love knowing that they’re breaking hearts, but I don’t. But I don’t know how _not_ to break their hearts. I’m not gonna change myself or become someone I’m not just to discourage people from having a crush on me. I’m not gonna stop trying to be a good person. But knowing that I’m still hurting people even though I try to be good and kind just…really sucks.”

“I’m sorry.” Meg’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it like that.”

“It’s okay. I know it probably seems like I’m ignorant of the way some of the girls in our class look at me, but I just don’t like thinking about it. There is another reason, though.”

“What?”

Calvin drew her close, even closer than they had stood before, and put his mouth to her ear. “The only girl I want is you.”

That made Meg’s breath hitch. He kept her flush against him and pressed his nose into her hair. Rosemary-scented conditioner saturated his lungs. When Meg rested her cheek against his chest and exhaled a blissful sigh, warmth filled his chest. Slowly he traced stars across her back with his forefinger and smiled when her embrace grew tighter.

 

* * *

 

“I’m worried about Calvin.” Jaime fiddled with the knot of his tie, loosening it with a sigh. With his collar slack, Veronica could make out a silver chain around his neck. “He seemed super freaked out.”

Standing next to him, Deandre shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’ve never seen him like that before. Do you think it has anything to do with sixth grade? That was Monica, right?”

“What happened in sixth grade?” inquired Penelope. She was sitting on the bleachers and adjusting her silver high heels, which went nicely with her lilac dress. It seemed that the back straps had started chaffing her heels. Veronica dug through her purse, produced a mini first aid kit, and handed her two bandaids. Penelope gave her a smile and a thank you.

Much to Veronica’s annoyance, Abby had chosen to keep hanging around them despite not being close to anyone in the group. It seemed all she had wanted earlier was to scold Calvin. Now, she brushed her straight ginger hair out of her eyes and said, with a touch of bitterness, “Calvin and Monica kissed.”

Veronica and Penelope’s mouths fell open. But Jaime crossed his arms. “ _Monica_ kissed Calvin,” he corrected. “And I’m starting to think he wasn’t as into it as we thought he was.”

Abby scowled but didn’t reply, instead fiddling with the appliqué on her cobalt blue dress. Veronica peeked over her shoulder toward Calvin and Meg, who were sitting at the far end of the bleachers. Calvin’s head was resting on Meg’s shoulder.

“Do you think Meg knows?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah,” Veronica said, watching as Meg stroked Calvin’s cheek. “I think she does.”

Deandre and Penelope left to dance and Abby set off to find Monica, leaving Jaime and Veronica alone. The air around Veronica suddenly felt warmer. On an impulse she almost shrugged off her shawl, but the fear of exposing her arms made her tug it tighter around herself instead.

The shawl had been her mother’s idea. When Veronica had returned home from a shopping trip with Adriana and Mrs. Gonzales only three days before the dance, her mother had thumbed her nose at the strapless dress she’d chosen. Not only did she find it immodest, but she didn’t like how it showed off her upper arms. Her mother was right, of course—Veronica had bought the dress impulsively and hadn’t noticed how it accentuated the chub on her arms. But she had forgotten to ask for a receipt, which meant that they couldn’t return it, and so her mom had given her the shawl to cover herself.

If only the awkwardness had ended there. Jaime and her mother had met several months ago after their performance of _Romeo & Juliet,_ and it had not gone well. There was something about Jaime that her mom didn’t like; whether it was the fact that he was a theatre geek or had dyed hair or what, Veronica didn’t know. Whatever it was, her mother hadn't been happy to find out that her daughter was going to play Juliet to his Romeo. After that particular performance, Veronica had been forced to listen to her mother nitpick Jaime’s acting and physical appearance for three whole days. 

So when Veronica had told her mom who she was going to the dance with, the news had been met with disappointed huffs and snide remarks. Her mom had even tried to convince Veronica to go back on her word and turn Jaime down, which had resulted in a fight and Veronica running to her room to cry. Even if she and Jaime did start dating—which she feared was looking less and less likely—her mom would never support them.

Earlier in the evening, after an excruciating car ride filled with passive-aggressive slights her mother directed toward her date, the air between Veronica and Jaime had felt too awkward for words, and so they had walked into the gym in silence. Only when Adriana had arrived with Isaiah had the tension dissolved—but only by a smidge.

“Veronica?” Jaime’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. His warm amber eyes met hers; Veronica couldn’t help but admire the cute arrangement of four freckles at the corner of his lefthand eye.

It took her a moment to realize that she hadn’t yet replied. “Uh—uh, yeah?”

“Do you want anything to drink?”

His words were far more stilted and awkwardly polite than normal; at the theatre, he would’ve probably cracked some lame joke about how he was so thirsty, he could drink all of Lake Tahoe. It made Veronica avert her gaze and chew the inside of her lip.

“Just water,” she told him with a nod. “Thanks.”

Jaime gave her a soft smile. “ _Un momentito_.”

He walked toward the refreshment table.

With a sigh, Veronica sat on the bleachers and rubbed her forehead. Meg had told her that Jaime wouldn’t have asked her to the dance unless he liked her, but doubt had seeped back into her mind. Did Jaime’s awkward demeanor around her mean that he didn’t like her? Had he only asked her because he didn’t want to go alone? He hadn’t hugged her or held her hand—even at the theatre he often offered her his hand to help her off the stage in an overly-gallant display that always made Veronica giggle. Would this date, if it was actually a real date, make things uncomfortable between them at the theatre?

To take her mind off of things, Veronica took to idly watching the people around her. By now, Calvin and Meg had left the bleachers and started slow dancing together. They looked to be in their own little world. After a moment, Veronica noticed that she wasn’t the only one watching them; Monica, Emily, Isabel, and Abby all had their eyes on the couple. Emily, who was wearing a floor-length white dress and whose strawberry blonde hair was tied up in an elaborate bun, looked a strange mix of mildly annoyed and thoroughly indifferent. Her outfit made her appear like an angel next to Isabel—which, according to Instagram, had been planned. Her step-sister was dressed in a black midi dress with bat-wing sleeves. A wire headband shaped like devil’s horns was arranged atop her silky black pixie cut. She was tapping away on her phone with a vengeance, pausing only to glance up at Meg and Calvin, lean over to Emily, and whisper something in her ear every so often.

Monica, on the other hand, looked to be on the verge of tears. As Veronica watched, she took off toward a column of purple balloons, hid out of the sightline of Meg and Calvin, and buried her face in her hands. Emily and Isabel exchanged concerned glances and started to follow her, but Abby said something to them and took off alone toward their friend. When she reached her, she gently pulled Monica into a hug.

Veronica couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for Monica. She didn’t know what had led Monica to believe that it was okay to come on to Calvin like she had, but based off of Veronica’s own casual interactions with Monica throughout the years, she seemed more misguided than malicious. Hopefully tonight would be a lesson learned.

Abby stood a few inches taller than Monica, enough that when she ducked her head closer to her friend’s, her cheek nearly knocked Monica’s plastic tiara off her head. The redhead stroked Monica’s hair, her fingers lingering in her dark locks for several moments too long. Veronica wondered if Abby knew how poorly she disguised the longing in her eyes.

Jaime hadn’t come back yet. Standing, Veronica walked a couple paces away from the bleachers to get a better angle on the refreshment table. Before she could catch a glimpse of Jaime, however, she saw Miguel, Adriana, and Isaiah. Adriana was standing between the boys, chattering and smiling at Miguel. But though she appeared to be enjoying herself, both boys were clearly uncomfortable. On Adriana’s left side, Isaiah had his hands stuffed in his pockets, a tight smile on his face; on her right, Miguel was twiddling with his sports watch, something Veronica knew he did when he was anxious.

After a handful of seconds, Veronica realized what was wrong. Adriana was completely ignoring Isaiah in favor of talking with Miguel. This was clearly annoying her actual date, who kept checking his phone and glancing toward a group of his friends half the court away. Adriana didn’t seem to notice, but Miguel sure did. If it had been anyone else, Miguel would’ve likely left by now. But he was loyal to Adriana to a fault, and unless an outside force came to drag him away, he would probably keep nodding his head and messing with his watch until the janitors came to sweep up the gym.

So, with one final glance at the refreshment table, Veronica made her way over to her friends. When Miguel saw her approaching, relief filled his eyes.

“Veronica,” he greeted her with a grateful smile, “I was hoping you’d join us.”

Adriana’s face lit up too. “ _¡Cariño!_ I was just telling Miguel about that time my ma took us to Belmont Park in San Diego.”

Donning a wry smile, Veronica replied, “When you got kicked off the bumper cars?”

“Uh, _we_ got kicked off because you kept screaming like a banshee every time someone bumped into your car.”

“What the heck is a banshee?” Isaiah mumbled, scuffing the floor with his shoes. The Jewish boy's quiet frustration reminded Veronica of why she had come over to them.

“Actually, I needed to talk to Miguel,” Veronica announced. “Uh, alone.”

Both Miguel and Adriana looked puzzled, but Isaiah’s shoulders relaxed. Before anyone could ask why, Veronica grabbed Miguel’s arm and guided him toward the refreshment table. As they walked, she finally spotted Jaime standing in the space between the bleachers and the table, holding two drinks and scanning the crowd with a confused expression. Guilt twinged Veronica for running off without letting him know where she was going to be.

Jaime caught a glimpse of her and Miguel through the crowd. She waved him over and relief washed over his face. When he reached them, she gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry I vanished. I had to rescue Miguel.”

Miguel blinked at her. “Wait, that’s why you came over? You don’t need to talk?”

“Yeah, I saw how uncomfortable you were, and I thought…” Veronica adjusted her shawl, feeling self-conscious beneath both boys’ bewildered gazes. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry. I really needed that.” Miguel rubbed his face with his hand. “I thought Isaiah was going to kick my ass.”

Jaime handed Veronica her water, which she took with a quiet word of thanks. “ _¿Claque?_ ”

Miguel tilted his head. “ _¿Qué?_ ”

“ _Ay, lo siento._ _Es el dicho puertorriqueño. Quise decir, ¿qué pasa?_ ”

“Uh, I was basically third-wheeling Adri and Isaiah. Veronica saw and got me out of it. I didn’t know you’re Puerto Rican.”

“My mamá is. My papá's Mexican.”

“ _Chido_.”

Just like that, the two boys lapsed into easy conversation. Veronica blinked in surprise. Neither Jaime nor Miguel had ever really spoken to each other; she had worried that Jaime didn’t like Miguel, or vice versa. It felt good to see the two most important boys in her life getting along—so good, in fact, that she didn’t mind that she had replaced Miguel as the third wheel. She was content to stand close to Jaime, close enough to feel his warmth and his laugh vibrate through the air. It was tempting to reach over and weave her fingers through his, but the fear that he’d reject her and pull away superseded that desire.

In her periphery, Veronica saw Isaiah and Adriana move onto the dance floor. Adriana had a bored expression on her face, her eyes half-lidded like they always became when she was losing interest in something. Veronica wondered why she had even accepted Isaiah’s invitation to the dance; whatever feelings he had for her were obviously not mutual. 

Truth be told, she had secretly been hoping that Adriana would wake up and realize how absolutely smitten with her Miguel had been for the past two years, but another part of her knew that they were not a good romantic match. As much as she loved Adriana, her best friend was infuriatingly unobservant and tended to take advantage of Miguel’s puppy-like devotion to her, albeit obliviously.

Musing about other people’s lives always brought Veronica an odd sense of comfort. That was why she loved theatre; it gave her the chance to forget her own woes and immerse herself in the lives of others. Unfortunately, this desire had also fueled her past misdeeds. While she had sworn off spying to try to glean gossip, she still enjoyed how much she could learn by harmless, thoughtful observation. It relaxed her.

Though, maybe she should just buy The Sims.

 

* * *

 

As the night progressed, Calvin and Meg fell into a steady routine, following the pattern of the music. Four slow songs, five upbeat, over and over with dependable consistency. They danced during the slow songs and left to hang out with Calvin’s friends during the faster ones.

Though he loved his friends, Calvin longed for the moments where it was just him and Meg, their arms around each other and their bodies pressed together. It was in those moments that he could forget what had transpired earlier with Monica. When he would return to his friends, it was hard to ignore the pitying—or, in some cases, mystified—looks their classmates cast him.

On the dance floor, Meg chatted with Calvin freely, but she didn’t talk much amongst his friends. Calvin made sure to ask her if she would rather go sit with him on the bleachers whenever they stopped dancing, but she would always insist that she wanted him to spend time with his buddies. But after a while, Meg’s face grew flushed and she withdrew into herself. Calvin noticed the shift immediately. He patted Jaime on the back, excused himself and Meg, and guided her toward the refreshment table.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just getting kinda hot in here.”

“You might be burning out. Your face is pretty red.” He pressed his hands to her cheeks. “Yeah, you feel really warm. Let’s go outside for a bit.”

The empty lobby was far cooler than the inside of the gym. The ticketing table sat abandoned in the middle of the room and Meg sat on top of it, fanning her face.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just…everyone’s packed in there like sardines in a hot, sweaty can.”

Calvin gingerly untangled a curl from her glasses. “It’s okay if it’s more than that. I know social stuff wears you out.”

Meg stuck out her bottom lip. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s _exhausting_. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had fun. With you.” She picked up his tie and smoothed it out with her thumbs. “But my head feels like I stuck it in an oven. My eyes are dry and so’s my mouth and no matter how much water I drink, I still feel so dehydrated.”

“Then let’s leave.”

“Really? There’s still like, forty-five minutes left. And Deandre said something about an after party.”

“Forget all that. See, what I was thinking,” said Calvin, his hands slipping around Meg’s waist, “is that we could try and convince your dad to let us get milkshakes and fries at Tío’s Diner.”

A dreamy expression overtook Meg’s face. “Ohh, that does sound good. Waffle fries and a strawberry cheesecake shake.”

Calvin wrinkled his nose. “I think I’ll stick with chocolate.”

“There is nothing wrong with strawberry cheesecake.”

“Other than the fact that it’s offensive to both cheese and cake. And strawberries. And just milkshakes in general.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, and he had the urge to surprise her with a kiss.

The overhead light suddenly switched on. Meg winced against the brightness.

“What are you two doing out here?” Principal Jenkins strolled over. He had volunteered to help chaperone the dance, but Calvin had only caught a glimpse of him on their way in earlier that evening. “Last I checked, there was a dance going on.”

Calvin took his hands off Meg’s waist and she dropped his tie. He was glad she still looked so obviously overheated, or else their principal might assume they’d snuck out for more intimate reasons. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her face and neck looked a dark, sickly red.

Jenkins noticed Meg’s condition. “Are you sick?”

Meg looked to Calvin, asking him with her eyes to speak. Out of the two of them, their principal would trust Calvin over her. It saddened him to know that Mr. Jenkins probably wouldn’t believe her about something as little as this.

“Just social exhaustion,” Calvin explained. “Too many people, too hot in the gym. She needed cold, fresh air. We were actually just talking about calling her dad to pick us up and take us out to eat.”

“Perhaps, as your class president and now king, it would be best if you stayed until the end of formal.”

What a ridiculous suggestion. Calvin tried not to show his irritation. “All due respect, sir, but Meg is more important to me than a plastic crown.”

Meg’s foot tapped his knee in warning. But Mr. Jenkins didn’t appear slighted.

“Hm. As I’ve said before, your loyalty is admirable.”

Calvin wanted to say that it was less loyalty and more human decency, but he didn’t want to agitate his principal and risk making Meg anxious. For a few awkward seconds, no one said anything. Then Meg poked Calvin’s shoulder and dropped her voice to a whisper.

“If we’re gonna leave, I need to get my bag. I left it inside.”

“I can get it for you.”

“No, I wanna get it.”

Calvin lifted an eyebrow, frowning; Meg’s eyes flickered toward Jenkins and she pursed her lips. Through those simple actions passed a silent exchange.

_Are you sure? What about Monica and Abby and them?_

_I don’t wanna be alone with Jenkins._

“Okay,” conceded Calvin. “I’ll stay here and call your dad.”

“Thanks.”

He helped Meg off the table. Once she left, he turned to Mr. Jenkins. Their principal had a bemused expression plastered across his face.

“You and Miss Murry make quite the odd couple.”

Calvin met his gaze levelly. “So we’ve been told.”

“I admit, I was quite concerned that she’d prove to be a bad influence on you.”

“‘Was’? You mean, you’ve changed your mind?”

“Jury’s still out.”

Leaning against the table, Calvin stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Everyone thinks she’s a bad person, but she’s not. Not at all. Meg’s like…a geode. Most people, people who don’t take the time to actually get to know her, just see an ordinary rock. When in reality, she’s full of—of beautiful crystals. If that makes sense.”

Jenkins looked surprised. “That’s a lovely sentiment. She’s lucky to have you.”

“It’s got nothing to do with luck, sir. But if it did, I’d say that I’m the lucky one.”

The principal nodded slowly. “How’s your mother?”

Calvin hadn’t been expecting that. He broke eye contact, his chest tightening. “Oh. Um. She’s…fine. I guess. She’s in Miami, I think.”

“She’s out of town again?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re staying with the Murrys again, I presume?”

“Yeah.”

Pinching his lips together, Mr. Jenkins studied Calvin. Finally, he asked, “Where does your mother work?”

“Manala & Co.”

“Consultant?”

“Management consultant.”

“Hm.” An odd, contemplative look crossed Mr. Jenkins’ face. “Well. Better make that phone call.”

He left Calvin alone to call Meg’s father.

Dr. Alex was more than happy to pick them up—in fact, he admitted that his wife had expected this. “Kate’s said that Meg’s never lasted long at school events,” he told Calvin, “and she figured that you’d offer to leave early when she started running on empty.”

He promised to arrive in ten minutes, then hung up. As Calvin put his phone away, he realized that Meg hadn’t come back with her bag even though at least five minutes had passed. He prayed that it was because she was talking with Jaime—or Veronica, possibly—and not because something bad had happened.

Once inside the gym, Calvin scanned the crowds for Meg. It took him half a minute, but then he spotted her a middle distance away. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. Monica and Abby stood in Meg’s path, their backs to Calvin. He heaved an exasperated sigh before moving toward them.

The first part of their conversation he managed to catch was Meg saying, “If you ever make Calvin uncomfortable again, I swear—”

“Are you threatening her?” Abby cut her off, bristling.

Monica shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why you?” Her voice trembled. “You’ve only ever been rude and—and obnoxious. You don’t deserve him. What does Calvin even seen in you?”

Halfway through Monica’s response, Meg noticed Calvin walking up. “Ask him yourself,” she replied in a quiet voice.

Monica and Abby spun around. Anger flooded Abby’s face, but Monica looked more startled than upset.

“When I look at Meg,” Calvin began slowly, strolling over to Meg. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side. “I see the bravest person I’ve ever met. I see a brilliant, compassionate person with a will that could tear down mountains. I see the person who knows me better than anyone at this school. And I’m sorry, Monica, but I love Meg, and I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t.”

He felt Meg’s fingers curl into the fabric of his suit jacket. Whether she was thanking him or asking him to stop, he wasn’t sure.

Monica’s mouth pinched into an uncharacteristically irritated pucker. She crossed her arms, tilted her chin up, and said, “I thought you were a smart guy, Calvin. Turns out, you’re just plain stupid.”

Venom laced her words, but her eyes betrayed her once more. Tears stuck to her lashes and heartbreak flooded her eyes, causing her insult to fall flat. She didn’t believe her words. Calvin had hurt her, and she was lashing out in response. A lump formed in his throat as guilt swept over him.

But after all that had happened between them, both that night and back in sixth grade, what could Calvin say? She had kissed him against his will, continued caressing him when he had asked her to stop, and insulted his girlfriend to her face. He didn’t want to send her mixed messages or let her believe that what she had done was okay.

So he took Meg’s hand and said, as sincerely as he could muster, “I’m sorry that I humiliated you earlier. Really, I am. But please leave me and Meg alone.” 

With that, he and Meg left the gym.

 

* * *

 

The dinner rush was just coming to an end at Tío’s Diner. Dr. Alex sat alone at a table halfway across the restaurant from Meg and Calvin, who snagged a booth in the back corner under a mural of a fountain at Mission San Gabriel Arcángel. They sat on the same side of the booth; Meg was tucked into the corner next to the window, her chiffon-covered legs stretched over Calvin’s lap and his suit jacket draped over her shoulders.

When their milkshakes arrived, Calvin gave his maraschino cherry to Meg. She ate it and her own with a smile while he shook his head.

“You like the weirdest food.”

“Maraschino cherries aren’t weird.”

“They’re hardly edible! They’re basically just garnish.”

Meg mumbled under her breath, “You’re basically just garnish.”

“That makes no sense.”

His girlfriend responded by scooping up a dollop of whipped cream with her finger and smearing it onto his nose. Calvin blinked, taken aback, and Meg collapsed into giggles.

“Uncalled for,” Calvin said, his voice shaking with laughter. He reached for a napkin right as Meg pulled her legs off his lap and scooted closer. She gave his nose a quick peck before wiping off the rest of the whipped cream with her thumb. 

The pallor of Meg’s skin had returned to its healthy, beautiful brown and exhaustion no longer darkened her eyes. Knowing that she felt relaxed, energized, and at peace with him made Calvin’s heart skip happily. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her ear, making her giggle again. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Meg looked up at him over her glasses, then pushed her glasses up farther up her nose to see him clearly. “A lot better. Are you? About the…the Monica thing?”

Calvin idly dipped a fry in ketchup, considering his words before he spoke them. “I…I’m trying to keep my mind off it. I’m not sure I handled it the right way, though. Monica was really upset.”

After taking a sip of her milkshake, Meg sighed. “Cal, she would’ve been upset no matter what. I think you did what you had to do, and I think you did it as kindly as you could.”

“Except for when I yelled at her in front of everyone.”

“But you said earlier that you had already tried to ask her to stop and she wouldn’t. Seems to me like that was the only way you could get her to actually _listen_ to you.”

Calvin couldn’t help a frown from weighing down the corners of his mouth. He felt Meg’s arm curl around his middle and she gave him a tight hug.

“Thanks,” he murmured, returning the hug. “You made tonight a good night, even with the bad stuff.”

Meg gave him a small smile. “Right back ‘atcha.”

Even though he knew Dr. Alex was probably watching them, Calvin bent down and kissed Meg softly. She touched his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, then pulled away and tugged his jacket tighter around her with a content sigh.

 

* * *

 

Alex dumped three packets of sugar and a thimble-sized cup of half-and-half into his coffee. If Kate were here, she’d chide him for not ordering decaf. But caffeine didn’t affect him the same way it affected her. Anything more than a single cup of coffee in the morning gave his wife the jitters, and she preferred green tea anyway. Alex, on the other hand, could drink caffeine all day long and still fall asleep peacefully at night. It was on the days that he didn’t have at least two cups that he felt restless and groggy. Kate would often sigh and tell him that he was addicted, but with the new lab assignments from NASA—who had been more than eager to re-hire him after his return—and three kids to look after, goodness knows he needed the pick-me-up.

Two of those kids sat halfway across Tío’s Diner: one his daughter, the other the boy Alex already viewed as his son-in-law. It was certainly hard not to. Calvin O’Keefe doted on his daughter and treated her like she hung the stars in the sky. Alex knew what it was like to be a teen boy, and yet Calvin acted nothing like he had at the same age. Admittedly, teenage Alex had been more flippant with his affection, more arrogant—a far cry from Calvin’s purposeful, humble devotion.

He suspected it had to do with their starkly different upbringings. Alex had grown up in a warm, loving family, and he had taken that for granted. It wasn’t until he’d had his heart severely broken during his senior year of high school—two years before he’d met Kate—that he had wisened up and stopped throwing his heart around.

Calvin didn’t have that luxury. His parents gave him no love for him to take for granted. As such, with the Murrys, Alex could see the gravity with which the young boy accepted their love and offered his own. He saw it in the way Calvin respected Alex and Kate, as well as the way he bonded with Charles Wallace. Most importantly, he saw it in the way he loved Meg. And Alex was no fool, nor was he a cynic. He knew Calvin was in love with his daughter.

Oh, Alex’s heart swelled as he thought of his darling Megatron. Right now she was snuggled up against Calvin, munching on fries and conversing quietly with her boyfriend. She had grown up so fast. Too fast. Trapped within the IT’s grasp, Alex hadn’t felt or perceived the passage of time. It crushed him to know that he had missed four years of his daughter’s life. Now, he was determined to make the most of the time he had with her and their family, as well as to make up for his absence any way he could.

Falling back into a parental routine had, for the most part, come naturally, but some of it had proved foreign and confusing. Meg had changed drastically within those four years. The excitable, curious ten-year-old that he had known had grown into a stubborn, insecure fourteen-year-old. She had many virtues, yes—her intellect, her heart, her strength of will—but she also had many vices, vices that Alex had never seen in his daughter before. In the week following his return, Kate had told him stories of Meg’s impulsive and bad-tempered outbursts at school, her lack of participation, bad grades, and status as the class outcast. Every word, every detail, broke Alex’s heart. His actions had caused this—his ambition and impulsivity.

And yet, as the days went by, Kate would whisper to him in shock regarding the metamorphosis their daughter was—once again—going through:

_ Meg wants to go to the library with Calvin to study. I can't remember the last time she's wanted to  _ study!

_ I haven’t seen her smile this much in years. _

_ Oh Alex, she’s so much happier, so much  _ lighter.

Meg’s laugh rang through the chatter of the diner. Alex watched as she tossed her head back, her curls tumbling over Calvin’s shoulder. Her boyfriend smiled tenderly at her. Their milkshakes sat half-empty before them, their plate of fries bare save for crumbs.

Alex took a long, slow sip of his coffee and smiled.

 

* * *

  

_[Meg's dress (color: whipped apricot)](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/jenny-yoo-cold-shoulder-chiffon-gown/4677295?origin=category-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home%2FWomen%2FClothing%2FDresses%2FProm%20Dresses&fashioncolor=White&color=whipped%20apricot) _

_[Veronica's dress (color: pale yellow)](https://www.promgirl.com/shop/dresses/viewitem-PD2288129) _

_[Monica's dress (color: green)](https://modernqipao.com/product/green-black-lace-mandarin-collar-tea-length-aline-prom-dress/) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


	2. check yes, juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg & Calvin go on a double date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Lucy for checking my Mexican Spanish! There is also Puerto Rican Spanish words/phrases/slang in this chapter, so that's why some phrases might seem incorrect. It might also be that I choose the wrong translation. I did a lot of research for the Spanish in this fic because I took ASL in high school, not Spanish, so hopefully I don't have any big mistakes. If I do, feel free to let me know!
> 
> And thank you to Quinny for adopting Veronica and adoring her character; if it wasn't for you, I don't know if I would've been brave enough to keep writing in her POV.
> 
> I really do enjoy Veronica's character and the OCs that I've given her to interact with/befriend/crush on, and I hope you guys enjoy it too :) This chapter is definitely very Veronica-centric.
> 
> Also...Veronica continues to be very observant in this fic. You'll know what I mean after you read it :)

* * *

 

The day after the dance, around nine o’clock, Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace were sitting at the kitchen table eating a Sunday breakfast of waffles and eggs. Calvin was in the middle of teasing Meg for putting maple syrup on her eggs when the doorbell rang. Since her parents were in the lab, Meg put down her fork and went to answer it herself. She grabbed Calvin’s green bomber jacket off the coatrack and zipped herself into it when she realized that she was still in her pajamas.

Unlatching the door, Meg opened it up a crack and was startled to see Veronica standing outside. Her old bully ran her fingers through her long brown hair, looking anxious. “Hi. I need your help.”

“Uh,” was all Meg could think to say for a moment. She opened the door fully. “Uh…is everything alright?”

Veronica swept through the door and babbled, her voice high with nerves, “Maybe? I don’t know, I’m just—I’m freaking out, I just don’t know what to do.”

By this time, Calvin had ambled in from the kitchen. Meg thanked her lucky stars that, unlike her, he had actually gotten dressed before coming down to breakfast; she didn’t know how they would’ve explained to Veronica why he was wearing pjs at her house.

“What’s wrong?” Calvin asked.

Veronica was so consumed with anxiety that she didn’t even react to his sudden presence. “Jaime texted me a while ago, asking if I wanted to go Blu Elefant with him today.”

Meg scrunched her eyebrows together. “And that’s…a bad thing?”

“No! No, it’s great, it’s fantastic, it’s—it’s terrifying. The dance was one thing. We weren’t alone at the dance. What if things get awkward? Or what if I’m assuming that it’s a date but he just thinks we’re hanging out? I haven’t replied to him yet, ‘cause I was hoping that…would you guys go with us?”

Calvin leaned against the piano. “Like a double date?”

“Yes, yes, exactly. And if I’m wrong and it’s not a date, then it’s just a group of people hanging out.”

“In that case, why not ask Adriana and Isaiah to go with you?” Meg asked.

“I already asked, and Adri said she doesn’t wanna go out with Isaiah again.”

“Her and Miguel, then?”

“But they’re not dating. You guys are dating, and if this _is_ a date then me asking two people who aren’t dating to tag along would be so weird!”

Twiddling the jacket’s zipper, Meg said, “Veronica, I think you’re overthinking this…”

“What time would the date be?” Calvin asked.

“One.”

He nodded, then drifted over to Meg and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m cool with it, but only if you are. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Meg bit her lip. After a moment, she looked at Veronica. “We’ll go.”

Relief washed over Veronica’s face. “Oh, thank you!” She moved forward as if to hug Meg, but then stopped and rubbed her arms. “Um—I’ll text Jaime, and I’ll then come over around 12:30 so we can walk over together?”

The couple nodded.

 

* * *

 

11:42 PM.

Veronica stared at the time on her phone as she paced across the length of her room. Forty-eight minutes until she would meet Calvin and Meg. Glancing out her bedroom window, she saw the couple beneath the metal dome in the corner of the Murrys’ yard. Meg’s little brother was with them, gesturing from an open book to the world around him like he was a teacher giving a lecture. Veronica wished she could feel as relaxed as they looked; it felt as if someone had replaced her heart with a jackhammer. She turned away from the window and walked back to her bed, breathing shakily.

“ _Cariño_ , stop pacing, you’re making me dizzy.” Adriana’s voice came from Veronica’s open laptop, which was sitting on her pillow. When Veronica had FaceTimed her, hoping for advice on what to wear on the date, her best friend had still been asleep. Even now, she laid beneath her covers, her curls tied back in her palm-leaf patterned silk scarf, her comforter pulled up to her chin, and a sleepy expression on her face.

“You’re probably dizzy ‘cause you haven’t eaten yet,” Veronica replied. She forced herself not to glance at the notes taped to her mirror. Her mom had made her a kale omelet that morning—and every morning for the past month or so—with a glass of water, but there were only so many times she could eat eggs for breakfast and not long for more variety.

On her computer, Adriana grumbled. “Ugh, I do really want blueberry waffles. And bacon…and hot horchata…”

Veronica’s stomach growled. She grabbed a packet of Extra off her nightstand and popped a stick of mint chocolate chip-flavored gum into her mouth, closing her eyes and focusing on the flavor.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” said Adriana. Static sounded over the laptop speakers as she tossed back her covers. “I’mma get up.”

“Wait, Adri, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t.”

“Thanks.” Smoothing out her black skater skirt, Veronica asked her, “Are you sure you like this outfit? I’m not sold on the top.”

“Why not?” Adriana had moved out of frame, presumably to get changed. “I like it. Pink looks good on you.”

Veronica scrutinized herself in the mirror. She had bought the pink-and-white short-sleeved raglan last year; since then, her chest had grown and the shirt fit snugger than it had before. Adriana insisted that it still fit her perfectly, but her mom had tried to donate it a few months back. Even with her mom’s clear disdain for the shirt, Veronica trusted Adriana’s opinion over her’s.

Beneath her skirt, she had on a pair of opaque black tights and black boots. Black was supposed to be a slimming color, but Veronica couldn’t help but feel self-conscious of her thighs. Should she switch to jeans? Or maybe the green maxi skirt her mom had gotten her for Christmas?

“I still can’t believe you asked Meg to join you and Jaime.” Popping back into frame, Adriana picked up her phone and carried it out of her room. She had changed into her purple-and-yellow James Baldwin MS volleyball tee and a pair of grey sweats. Her curls tumbled loosely down her back.

“And Calvin,” Veronica pointed out. “He _is_ Jaime’s best friend. Besides, you and Isaiah were my only other option, and you said no.”

Adriana rolled her eyes. “Eh. He’s cute and all, but he’s so boring. I’m not really into him.”

“Better let him know.”

“Oh, like you’ve let Jaime know that you’re in looove—”

“Adri!” Veronica squeaked, covering her heat-flushed face. “Shut up! I’m not—I like him, yeah, but who said anything about love?”

A muffled laugh came over the video chat. “ _Cariño_ , you’ve been gushing about him ever since you guys did _Romeo & Juliet_ together.”

Veronica spluttered. “Wha—I—no I haven’t!”

Footsteps clomped on stairs as Adriana quoted in a sappy valley-girl voice, “He’s the best costar I’ve ever had! We have a ton of chemistry, it’s sorta insane. And he’s sooo nice? And funny? And, like, I know you’re not supposed to improv Shakespeare, but we were practicing before rehearsal the other day and we improved so well together!” 

“I don’t sound like that!”

“Eh, but you don’t deny that you said those things,” her friend said with a cheeky smirk. “I’m just glad you finally came to your senses. It was driving me _un poco loco_.”

With a groan, Veronica flopped onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She _had_ said all that. At the time, she hadn’t realized how starstruck she’d come across. It was a good thing that she had never told Elle about Jaime; she probably would’ve used the information as leverage.

Speaking of the devil…Veronica rolled over to face her laptop. “I got another anon this morning,” she told Adriana.

A scowl overtook Adriana’s face. “Elle again?”

“Probably. She’s the only person other than you and Lorna who knows I have a Tumblr, and I doubt it’s Lorna.”

“You know you can turn off anon.”

“Do you think that’ll actually stop her?”

“Won’t hurt to try. Plus, after the whole finsta thing, she probably won’t wanna make it obvious that she’s the one sending you hate. She’s not that stupid.” More static sounded as Adriana set her phone down on her kitchen counter. “Though, I’d love it if she were that stupid. Then maybe we could get her suspended again.”

Veronica’s stomach churned. She snapped her marbled case off her phone, then snapped it back on. “Hey, Adri?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

“Why…do you get mad at Elle for bullying me, but you’re chill with bullying Meg?”

Adriana leaned on the counter, seemingly deep in thought, and shrugged. “You don’t deserve it.”

“And Meg does?”

“I mean…yeah.”

“Why?”

“She nearly busted your face with a basketball, for one thing.”

“After I called her little brother crazy and told her that I understood why her father left her—and on the anniversary of his disappearance! What if she had said that to me and I had hit her in the face? You would’ve thought I was justified, right?”

Silence fell. After a moment, her friend swore under her breath in Spanish. “…Probably.”

“Look, I know you don’t wanna take Meg’s side, but…could you not pick on her anymore? For me? I kinda…wanna be friends with her again, someday. Hopefully. If she’ll ever forgive me.”

Adriana rested her chin in her hands and frowned. “I still don’t think she deserves your friendship. But I promise.”

“Thanks.” Veronica sat up; when she saw her reflection in her mirror, she cringed at the state of her hair. “Ugh. I’m gonna finish getting ready.”

“Okay. _Adiós_.”

“Bye.”

Adriana hung up. Without the comforting—if virtual—presence of her friend, Veronica’s heart started racing once more. She stood and hurried to her vanity to fix her hair and to make sure her concealer still covered the speckling of acne on her chin. The color of the concealer didn’t entirely match her skin, but she’d have to make do.

After freshening herself up, Veronica checked the time on her phone. 11:56. A glance out the window told her that Meg and Calvin were still outside. Would they mind if she went over early? The idea of waiting alone in her room made her feel nauseous.

She waffled for a full minute; then, she took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and left.

 

* * *

 

The moment Calvin opened the alley gate, a nervous flood of words tumbled out of Veronica’s mouth. “I’m sorry I’m early, but I’m driving myself crazy all alone in my room and I’m worried that maybe 12:30 isn’t a good time to leave?” Waving her hands about, she swept into the Murrys’ backyard. “I mean, it’s a fifteen-minute walk to Jaime’s house and then another fifteen-minute walk to Blu Elefant, so we’ll be meeting Jaime at 12:45, but what if we’re early or late? Which is worse, being too early or too late? Too late is obviously rude but too early might be creepy or—”

“Whoa, Veronica,” Calvin said, holding up his hands. “It’s alright. Breathe. We’re gonna be with you, so don’t worry about what time we get there. Jaime isn’t nit-picky about stuff like that, anyway. He’ll just be happy to see you.”

Veronica let out a slow huff of air, as if the action would expel some of her anxiety.

“Um,” continued Calvin, suddenly appearing sheepish, “you’ve got some, uh…” He pointed to his teeth.

Embarrassment filled her stomach as she hurriedly pulled out her phone to use as a mirror. Earlier she had made the bold and impulsive choice to put on some of her mom’s red lipstick, and now she could see that some of it had gotten on her teeth.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” Veronica moaned, trying to clean her teeth. “I look like a clown!”

Meg’s voice came from behind her, stilted and unsure. “My mom gets lipstick on her teeth whenever she wears it, too. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re not an idiot, and you don’t look like a clown,” Calvin added with a reassuring smile.

“I think you look splendid,” a third voice piped up. Meg’s little brother, Charles, climbed out from beneath the metal dome. Veronica had forgotten that he was there.

“Oh. Thank you,” she replied, shooting him a weak smile.

Calvin latched the gate. “I second that. And I bet Jaime will agree.”

That made Veronica’s face flush as red as her lipstick. “I hope you’re right.” She peeked at Meg, who was sitting atop the dome. She had on loose ripped jeans, a navy shirt, and Calvin’s green jacket, the same one she had been wearing when Veronica had asked them on the double date. “Is, um, that what you’re gonna wear?”

An insulted scowl contorted Meg’s face and she tugged the sleeves of the jacket down over her hands.

Veronica took a sharp intake of breath. She really _was_ an idiot. “Oh—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, that sounded so mean, I just meant that if you hadn’t gotten ready yet, I’d like to help—not that you need my help, just…I need a distraction, and focusing on you instead of myself for a bit might help me calm down, and—”

“I guess,” Meg interrupted, her eyes downcast. “I kinda owe it to you, since you helped distract me after Elle threw the—” She bit her lip and glanced at her little brother, who had suddenly taken a very keen interest in a nearby rose bush. “Um, you know.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

The girls left the backyard and went inside. As they entered the living room, Meg suddenly dashed up the stairs. Confused, Veronica followed her. She reached the second floor just in time to see Meg close one of the hallway doors. She looked at Veronica out of the corner of her eye, but gave no explanation and turned toward the attic stairs.

Weird.

It took all of Veronica’s willpower to resist peeking inside the mystery room. They had already passed Mr. and Mrs. Murry’s room, right at the top of the stairs, as well as the study and the bathroom. As they continued down the hall, Meg passed another open door but didn’t close it. Veronica could tell that this room was Charles’; inside she could see model rockets, a kid’s science kit, and star-map hanging above the twin-sized bed. This only served to fuel Veronica’s curiosity. What was Meg trying to hide?

On the attic stairs, Veronica made sure to skip the seventh step, which, if she remembered correctly, made such a loud cracking sound that it sounded like a gunshot. She could also vaguely remember overhearing Mr. Murry promise his wife that he’d get it fixed—five years ago.

A small, dim hallway led to Meg’s room. One corner of the hallway was cluttered with boxes, old lab equipment, and a ratty armchair. Postcards from NASA and Griffith Observatory decorated Meg’s door, as well as a small magnetic whiteboard. On it, someone had written a note in asking Meg to sweep the kitchen. Beneath that message was a doodle of a heart with the initials “C + M” inside.

Veronica paused in the doorway to Meg’s bedroom, her eyes growing wistful as she looked around the large space. Directly across from the door was the storage area, hosting boxes, a faded green ping pong table, and Meg’s old dollhouse. Light flooded in from the window; the white curtains were drawn back and figurines and sea glass decorated the window sill. A grey cat slept atop the unmade bed, which, though now full-sized instead of twin-sized, still hosted a large patchwork quilt. Science posters covered the wall, as well as a Coldplay poster and several pictures that were probably drawn by Charles. One drawing in particular showed a girl—likely Meg—in the middle of a kaleidoscope of colors. The detail was incredible.

“Wow…”

Meg snatched some of her clothes off the floor. “Yeah, I know, it’s a mess.”

“No more than mine. But it’s like…so much has changed since I’ve last been in here, and yet…nothing has. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Whilst Meg finished cleaning up her dirty clothes, Veronica drifted over to the old chestnut wardrobe. The wardrobe’s door squeaked horrendously as she opened it.

“I remember this dumb door,” she laughed. “Gave me a heart attack when you first opened it back in…what, second grade?”

A small smile tugged at Meg’s mouth. “Yeah, sounds about right.” But then something dimmed in her eyes and her smile faded.

Veronica pursed her lips, her own smile disappearing. To distract herself, she started rifling through Meg’s clothes. “Um…did you wanna wear a dress, a skirt, or jeans?”

“Honestly, I was just gonna wear jeans, this tank, and maybe my black cardigan. Calvin and I’s dates are pretty chill.”

Pursing her lips, Veronica glanced at her and asked, “What do you guys usually do? Like, do you go out to lunch or dinner or to the movies together?”

“Sometimes. Mostly he just comes over and we hang out here.”

“When _isn’t_ he here?” A genuine question lurked behind Veronica’s joking tone. It seemed to her that whenever she glanced out her bedroom window, Calvin was at the Murry home. At first, this hadn’t seemed odd—she had thought that perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Murry didn’t yet allow their daughter to go on dates—but as the months had passed, Veronica had started keeping a mental tally of how many days per week she noticed Calvin there. It soon got to the point where _not_ seeing him at Meg’s house at least once any given day was abnormal.

Meg smiled tightly and didn’t reply. Too afraid of upsetting her to press for an answer, Veronica left the wardrobe and moved to the dresser. She found a pair of black high-waisted jeans and smiled. “Here we go. Do you have any crop tops?”

“No.”

“Really? Your body is practically _made_ for crop tops. What shirts do you have?”

Meg opened her dresser’s middle drawers. Most of her shirts were tees, though she did have several flannels, a handful of blouses, and some tunics. Rifling through her options, Veronica plucked out a white vintage-style NASA tee with a black-rimmed collar and sleeves.

“How about this? It’s casual and cute, and if you tuck it in you’ll look even slimmer.”

“I don’t wanna look slimmer,” Meg mumbled and rubbed her arms. “I’m scrawny enough as is.”

“There’re worse things to be,” replied Veronica, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She wished she could switch bodies with Meg. The Murry girl was lanky and knobby-kneed, with a flat torso and nice, well-shaped hips. She probably didn’t have to worry about finding shirts that fit over her shoulders and chest or jeans that didn’t give her a muffin top. Picking out a flattering dress for the dance likely had only taken her twenty minutes versus Veronica’s hour-and-a-half.

The thought caused bitterness to swim in her stomach. She handed the shirt to Meg and gestured toward the door. “If you’re gonna change, I’m gonna, uh…use the bathroom.”

Meg nodded.

As she walked down the attic stairs, a war waged within Veronica. She didn’t need to use the bathroom, not really; that mystery door still nagged at her. It proved to be far more of a distraction from her anxiety than helping Meg get ready. She knew she shouldn’t betray Meg’s trust or her privacy, but Veronica had never been good at taming her curiosity.

Yet she didn’t have a chance to test her self-control. When she turned the corner into the second-floor hallway, Calvin stepped out of the same mystery room. He saw Veronica at the same time that she saw him.

“Oh.” Paling, he quickly shut the door behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey…”

Calvin’s cell was in his hand; he held it up and let out an awkward chuckle. “I forgot my phone,” he told her, as if that explained everything.

“Okay…”

Something flashed in Calvin’s eyes; when Veronica realized what it was, her breath hitched.

Fear.

And just like that, Veronica switched into actress mode. “Is that the bathroom?” she asked, widening her eyes and lifting her eyebrows with the intention of making herself look innocently questioning. “I can’t remember where it is.”

Whether Calvin truly believed her or if he only wanted to play along, Veronica wasn’t sure. Whatever the case, his shoulders relaxed and the fear left his eyes. “Uh, no, it’s this door here.” He pointed across the hall.

Veronica plastered on a smile. “Thanks.”

Once inside the bathroom, she locked the door and leaned against it, the cogs turning in her mind. Both Meg and Calvin were acting far too strangely for that room to be an additional study or rec room. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what that room had been four years ago, back when she was still friends with Meg. A guest bedroom, maybe?

A theory formed in the back of her mind. Her eyes drifted over to the medicine cabinet. If her theory was right, then that meant…

Veronica crept up to the cabinet. Her reflection stared back at her warily, almost as if it were trying to warn her not to invade the Murry’s privacy. She bit her lip, then reached forward, opened the medicine cabinet, and counted the number of toothbrushes stowed in a cup on the bottom shelf.

Five.

 

* * *

 

The sun reflected off the bright grey sidewalk, casting a glare into Calvin’s eyes. A cool breeze drifted through the palms towering above him, Meg, and Veronica. Earlier, Veronica had appeared quiet and distracted—Calvin had even caught her casting him enigmatic glances and had wondered if maybe there was a stain on his shirt—but as they neared Jaime’s street, she grew more and more restless.

Jaime was sitting on the stone porch railing when they arrived. Calvin smirked; his best friend was wearing his favorite shirt with teal, red, white, and mustard-yellow vertical stripes, as well as his nicest white sneakers. Veronica took a deep breath when she saw him and slowed her pace.

Hopping off the railing, Jaime met them at the edge of his lawn. A wide smile donned his face and he ran his fingers through the dyed-blond patch of curls at the front of his hair, an anxious tick of his. “Hey, _broki_. Meg. Veronica.” He looked at Veronica, ducked his head, and then peeked back up at her. “You look really nice.”

Cheeks turning pink, Veronica squeaked, “Thanks!” Embarrassment flashed across her face at the high pitch of her voice and she cleared her throat. “You, um, also look really nice. I like your shirt.”

“ _Gracias_.”

For a short spell, the group only looked at each other in silence. Then, Meg sighed, grabbed Calvin’s hand, and took off westward. “Blu Elefant is this way, right?”

Her question snapped Jaime out of his reverie. “Oh, _sí_. We better get going.”

 

* * *

 

Movies made double dates look fun and casual, free from pressure or awkwardness. Movies, Calvin thought glumly, were wrong.

They had all settled into the comfiest area of the café, right next to the window. Calvin and Meg sat together on a sky-blue couch, their backs to the window, while Jaime and Veronica sat across from them in an old, burgundy,damask-patterned couch. The wall to Calvin’s right was decorated with vivid scarlet wallpaper and framed art. The café was an odd mix of eclectic and vintage; the floor was cement, the furniture appeared to have been bought from an antiques store, and a disco ball hung from the ceiling. Vinyl records covered one wall from floor to ceiling.

Sadly, the peculiar coziness of the café didn’t translate into the date itself. Whenever Calvin and Meg went out on a date—which wasn’t often, since they both preferred the comfort of the Murry home over the publicness of the alternative—they spent the majority of the time talking about both trivial matters and deeper, more serious topics. But Meg hadn’t spoken once in the last thirty minutes. She fiddled with the straw sticking out of her blended mocha, bending it into thirds, fourths, and fifths until it more resembled an accordion than a straw. Calvin didn’t try to pressure her into talking; he knew doing so would only make her feel more uncomfortable.

Other than a few short words here or there, Veronica stayed as silent as Meg. She barely touched her unsweetened Moroccan mint tea and kept tapping her nails against the back of her phone as if she wanted to use it. But though she didn’t talk, she watched Calvin and Jaime—mostly Jaime—chat, her eyes soft despite the anxious way she pinched her lips together. Whenever Jaime glanced her way, she averted her gaze and blushed.

Thirty minutes into the date, Meg got up to buy a second mocha. It was likely an excuse to escape for a minute, and Calvin decided to take the opportunity to talk to her alone.

“Hey,” he said in an undertone as they waited in line, “I think we need to talk to them.”

Meg scowled, smoothing out creases in a five-dollar bill. “We have been. Well, okay, _you_ have.”

“No, I mean we need to talk to them one-on-one. Me with Jaime, you with Veronica.”

They reached the front of the line. Meg reordered her mocha while Calvin asked for water. After paying, they shifted into a corner to continue their conversation. With a glance at Jaime and Veronica, Calvin saw that they were sitting silently next to each other. As he watched, Jaime said something to Veronica and she nodded. He returned her nod, and then neither said anything more.

“So you want us to give them pep talks?” Meg asked with a confused purse of her lips. “You want _me_ to give _Veronica_ a pep talk?”

“Yeah.”

Sighing, his girlfriend leaned against the wall and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Cal, I barely know her anymore. I’ll probably just end up accidentally insulting her or something. I’m not good with words like you are.”

She was still wearing his green bomber jacket. Calvin reached forward, grasped the hem of the jacket near the pocket, and pulled her close. “You’ve always managed to cheer me up.”

“That’s different. You know me. I don’t feel any pressure talking to you, ‘cause you can tell when what I say isn’t what I mean.”

“I think Veronica will be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, especially with everything that’s happened. I have faith in you. Jaime and I can go outside to talk, and you and Veronica can stay in here.”

“Or…we could just go home. If we’re gone, then they _have_ to interact with each other.”

“Meg…”

“ _Babe_ , please?”

Calvin raised an eyebrow and slid his hand around Meg’s waist. “Y’know, you only call me ‘babe’ when you want me to do something.”

“Is it working?” she asked, her voice lilting with a cheeky sweetness.

He tapped his chin in faux-thoughtfulness, then grinned. “Nope. Cute try, though.”

Meg pouted. He laughed and gave her a quick peck.

“Listen, I’m gonna take Jaime outside, and you don’t have to talk with Veronica while we’re gone. But I do think you’d do a great job and really help her out if you do.”

The barista called out their orders. Before they went to pick up their drinks, Meg made up her mind.

“Fine,” she whined. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Meg stuck out her tongue.

 

* * *

 

Clouds had drifted over the sun, casting shadows on the sidewalk outside of the café. Calvin moved to the outside seating farthest away from the door so as to gain a semblance of privacy. As Jaime followed him, he mumbled something under his breath.

“ _Nuestra salida esta yendo al garete…_ ”

Even though Calvin understood a fair amount of Spanish, unfamiliar Puerto Rican phrases often went over his head. “ _¿‘Al garete’?_ ”

“ _Ay, lo siento_. I said, this is going badly. Basically.”

“It is a bit…awkward.”

“ _¿Un poco?_ We’re the only ones talking, _broki_. Meg doesn’t talk much anyway, not when I’m around, but Veronica…she’s so chatty at the theatre. She was quiet at the dance too, and at school in general lately…I think maybe… _ay bendito_ …”

Sighing, Jaime sat in a chair beneath a red umbrella and pulled his necklace—two dog tags on a silver chain—out from under his shirt. Though he never took the necklace off, revealing it others was a rarity, and Calvin suspected that he might be the only one of their friends to know the story behind the tags. Unless Jaime had also told Veronica, which was certainly a possibility.

“I think I might’ve misread Veronica’s feelings for me,” whispered Jaime, sliding the tags between his thumb and forefinger. Calvin could make out the name _Bautista, Jimena_ stamped into the metal. “When she said she’d go to the dance with me, I thought it meant that she liked me back. But now, everything’s just awkward. I don’t think she likes me like I like her.”

Calvin chewed his lip and pulled up a chair next to Jaime. He knew that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want to betray Veronica’s confidence, either. So, he settled for a vague approach. “I can tell that she likes you, Jai. Trust me. Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you when you smile at her?”

Jaime scuffed the toe of his sneakers against the sidewalk. “I thought maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.”

“Well, she’s into you.”

The curly-haired boy didn’t reply. For a minute, neither spoke. Calvin fiddled with the starfish charm on his bracelet, then looked at his friend and decided to change the subject slightly.

“What plays have you guys done together?”

Nervousness suddenly washed over Jaime’s face and his knee started bouncing. “Well, we’ve been minor characters in a fair amount of plays, like _Annie_ and _Into The Woods_ , but most recently, we were in _Romeo and Juliet_.”

“Who did you play?”

“…Romeo. Don’t laugh, _por favor_.”

Calvin smiled, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he quoted, “‘With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out.’”

Jaime blinked at him in surprise, and then laughed and finished, “‘Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords.’ You’ve read it?”

“Uh-huh. Several times, honestly. I like Shakespeare; my favorite play of his that I’ve read is _The Tempest_. I think it’s cool you got to play Romeo. But, gee, I wonder who played Juliet,” he added teasingly.

That made Jaime flush red. He buried his face in his hands. “… _Sí_.” After a moment, he rubbed at his eyes and leaned back. “Y’know, she’s different outside of school. The Veronica I know from 24 is just—she’s adorable. She can be such a goofball, if you can believe it. She’s overdramatic but in a good way, a silly way, and she’s super patient and—and encouraging, especially with the younger members. Some of my best memories at the theatre are us just goofing off onstage together. Now that she’s stopped hanging out with Elle Blumenthal, I’ve started seeing that Veronica at school. That’s why I finally asked her out.”

“I didn’t know that,” Calvin admitted. “I didn’t have the best opinion of Veronica for a long time, because, well…”

“She bullied Meg.”

“Exactly. But she’s been trying to make it up to Meg, and so in turn I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Plus…you trusted my judgment of Meg. I trust your judgement of Veronica.”

“ _Gracias_. _Significa mucho para mí._ ”

Both boys were quiet for a bit. Then Calvin nudged Jaime. “So, I guess that means you’ve kissed her already, huh?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, our director decided to keep the performance G-rated. Cheek kisses only. But I preferred that, actually. I’d rather my first kiss with her not be…fake, if that makes sense. I wanna be Jaime kissing Veronica, not Romeo kissing Juliet.”

“I get that. I probably would’ve wanted the same with Meg if I was in that situation. I mean…” Calvin picked a stray leaf up off the table and twirled it between his fingers. “Listen, Jai, I got to know Meg outside of school, too. We met while she was walking her dog, her little brother invited me over for dinner, and things just…sparked from there. But the worst thing I could’ve done at school the next day would’ve been to act differently around her there than I had when we were hanging out. That would’ve confused her, hurt her. And once you’ve established that things are different at school versus outside of school, it’s hard to change that.

“You already took the first step when you invited her to sit with our table after Elle kicked her out, but Jai, Veronica’s so confused. You guys are close at the theatre but hardly talk at school, so _of course_ she’s gonna be getting mixed signals from that. Though, to be fair, I know Veronica used to be a lot…meaner at school, and she never made an effort to hang out with you, either, so…”

A profoundly guilty look was etched across Jaime’s face. “I didn’t mean… _acho_ …we had our separate groups. I didn’t wanna hang out with Elle Blumenthal, and I didn’t think Veronica ever wanted to hang out with me over her friends. Ugh, _soy un zángano._ ”

“You’re not an idiot,” Calvin insisted. “But as cliché as it sounds, you gotta be yourself. Because Veronica probably doesn’t know how to act around the Jaime _you_ are at school, just like you don’t know how to act around the Veronica _she_ is at school. If you aren’t being yourselves, neither of you are gonna know how to interact with the other. If you aren’t being yourselves, you’re gonna second guess everything—your friendship, your own personality, every little thing you say or do—and that’s not good. If the Jaime you are at 24 is the real, genuine Jaime, then don’t be afraid to be that Jaime. Because clearly, Veronica is comfortable with the real Jaime, and if you be yourself, she’ll probably feel like she can be herself, too.”

Jaime blinked, seemingly deep in thought. He nodded slowly and didn’t say anything for a minute. Then, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Hey, Calvin?”

“Yeah?”

“You…you’re in love with Meg, aren’t you?”

Calvin didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I am.”

“What…” Jaime cleared his throat. “What does it feel like? Like, how do you know?”

Pursing his lips, Calvin fiddled with his bracelet thoughtfully. The feeling of the starfish charm beneath the pads of his fingers brought back memories of Christmas Eve night, of red-and-green wrapping paper and Meg’s hand in his hair and her lips on his. He smiled. “When I’m with Meg…I feel like I can be completely myself. I don’t feel like I have to put up a front or conform to what other people expect of me. And I…I feel safe. Like whatever I’m going through, she’ll be right by my side ready to support me and fight for me, and me for her, because we both want the best for each other and to protect and take care of one another. Being with Meg honestly just…feels like being home.”

Jaime whistled, low and slow. “ _Chacho meng_.”

Calvin laughed. “ _Bien dicho_.”

 

* * *

 

After the boys left the café, Veronica let out a heavy sigh, bent over, and rested her face in her hands. Meg criss-crossed her legs on the blue couch and sipped at her second mocha, her skin prickling with anxiety. How should she begin a conversation? Talking to Calvin, reassuring him, came naturally to her; she never felt that words were a burden with him. But Veronica…things were still so strange between them. The encouragements she would give Veronica when they were ten may not help now, and she had no idea how to approach a touchy topic like romance.

“Meg?”

Veronica’s voice jolted Meg out of her thoughts. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah?”

The other girl was digging through her purse, seemingly searching for something. “Does my lipstick still look good?”

“Um…I think so.”

Veronica opened the camera on her phone, inspecting herself, and then reapplied her lipstick. Annoyance twinged at Meg. Why ask if she wasn’t going to believe her?

_Focus_ , her mind needled her. _That’s not important. Talk to her._

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Veronica put away her lipstick and typed something on her phone.

_Just talk to her._

The other girl set down her phone, her eyes drifting idly around the cafe.

_Talk!_

“So if you and Jaime are supposed to be such good friends, then why wouldn’t you hang out with him at school?” Meg blurted out. She bit her lip at the harshness in her voice, her stomach seizing with mortification.

But Veronica didn’t appear offended, only surprised at the suddenness of Meg’s question. Picking a speck of dust off her skirt, she said, “Well…at school…everything’s different. At school, Jaime’s one of the cool guys, and I was just…I was one of the mean girls.”

Tentatively, Meg asked, “You were afraid that he would reject you at school?

“…Yeah. Why would he want who I was? For a long time, all I did was fantasize about…someone else.”

Guilt dimmed Veronica’s eyes. Meg knew what that meant.

_Calvin._

“But that was just that—a fantasy. I don’t think I ever really liked that guy, not really. How can you like a guy you don’t even really know? I know Jaime. At least, I think—thought—I do. So once Elle kicked me out of the group and he invited me to sit with him, even after all I’d done, I…it was a wake-up call.”

A minute passed in silence. Meg took a long, slow breath through her nose, considering her next words carefully. Another minute passed before she felt sure enough in her wording to speak. “Veronica…I know how you feel. I’m dating Calvin O’Keefe of all people. Logic should dictate that he’s too good for me. And yet…he chose me. And he thinks I’m incredible. Beautiful, even. But the thing is—and this is something I struggle with _constantly_ , no matter how many times I briefly feel secure in it—I’m not beautiful because Calvin thinks I’m beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful because I _am_ beautiful. The same goes for you and Jaime. He likes you, and that means he sees something incredible in you, a beauty in you, that you might not see for yourself.”

Veronica stared at the floor, her hands tightly clasped together. “I don’t know about that.”

“What part?”

“Jaime liking me.”

Meg rolled her eyes so hard that it hurt. “Oh _c’mon_ , Veronica. He asked you to the dance _and_ he asked you on a date!”

“I still don’t know if this is a date! He hasn’t held my hand or brought me flowers or anything like you see on TV.”

“Calvin didn’t get me flowers on our first ‘real’ date. I mean…well, he did pick a daisy and put it in my hair. But we just went to the park and cloud-gazed for a while. We didn’t even talk for most of it.”

A small, wistful smile curved Meg’s lips as she spoke. That afternoon with Calvin had been beyond lovely. They had laid together on the grass in the park; barely speaking, not even touching, simply enjoying the sun as it peeked out from behind the fluffy white clouds and the warm wind as it drifted through the daisies and buttercups surrounding them. She had never known that something so simple could be so joyful.

Veronica chewed her lip. “Was that before or after you guys kissed for the first time?”

“Oh.” Meg blinked. “Uh, after.”

“See. It’s not the same. You _knew_ that he liked you because he told you by kissing you. I’m not saying that Jaime needs to kiss me—though I wouldn’t complain if he did—but…I just want _something_. Some sort of undeniable confirmation. Is that so wrong?”

Folding the tip of her straw between her teeth, Meg mumbled, “I guess not. But…why not just go for it yourself?”

“The idea of telling him how I feel literally makes me nauseous,” Veronica replied, her whole body slumping in resignation.

“I mean…the worst he could say is no.”

Veronica let out a short, bitter laugh. “That’s not true. He could laugh at me. He could look at me like the thought of being with me disgusts him.”

“Veronica, this is Jaime we’re talking about, not Tristan. I highly doubt he’d react like that.”

“It could ruin the friendship we have at the theatre,” Veronica continued like she hadn’t heard Meg. “That’s what scares me the most. The theatre…that’s, like, my safe place, y’know? Jaime’s apart of that. Like, um…” She took a deep breath. “Last year, June, I think, our theatre did a production of _Arsenic and Old Lace_. Do you know it?”

“No.”

“It’s a comedy about these two elderly women who’ve been murdering old men.”

“…Oh.”

“It’s funnier than it sounds, I promise. Anyway, I played Martha, one of the old ladies. I got to wear a grey wig and a bunch of makeup that made me look all old and wrinkled. Playing her was so much fun, and after our first show I was so proud of my performance. But then…”

Veronica faltered for a moment, her voice shaky.

“My mom didn’t say anything about how I did or how she liked the play. All she really said was how unfortunate it was that my dress didn’t ‘flatter me’ and how she wished I had played the young, pretty character. She probably meant that she thinks I would’ve been good at playing the pretty girl, which is nice and all, but I loved playing Martha and thought I did a good job, and that just…ruined my mood.”

Meg kept silent, quietly marveling at the fact that Veronica was telling her such a personal story. She didn’t know what she had said or done to prompt this, and she felt a little awkward, but she wasn’t about to stop the other girl from unburdening her soul.

“After I’d gotten all my makeup and stuff off,” continued Veronica, “I hid away in the back of the costume closet. Jaime found me. He’d heard what my mom said. So he sat with me and started telling me everything he liked about my performance. How hilariously I had delivered comedic lines, how funny the quirks I gave my character were, how even though I had forgotten a line, I had adlibbed so well that the audience couldn’t tell. The entire time, he was grabbing feather boas and newsboy caps and other stuff for us to put on, and by the time my mom found us we looked absolutely ridiculous. But I had finally started smiling again.”

Even though her voice was wobbly, a tiny smile curved Veronica’s lips. Meg couldn’t help but match it. “He sounds like a really good guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

 

* * *

 

Once he and Jaime were ready to go back inside, Calvin shot Meg a text to make sure she and Veronica were ready for them. A full minute passed before Meg replied.

_i hope i helped. you guys can come back_

Calvin sent her a word of thanks and a heart. He and Jaime walked back I nto the café. The moment they rounded a corner and came into view of the couches, Jaime stopped. Veronica’s back was to him,. For a few heartbeats, he only gazed at her. Then, he took a deep breath, steadying his nerves; he squared his shoulders and gave Calvin a nod before walking over to the girls. When Veronica saw him coming, she bowed her head and started fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Meg cast an inquiring glance at her boyfriend.

Jaime sat down on the coffee table in front of Veronica, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey. I just wanna say…I’m really sorry. I never…I didn’t make an effort to befriend you at school. I should have. _Perdóname_.”

Veronica looked up at him. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if she were a fish gasping for breath on dry land. Finally, she stammered out, “I—I should be the one apologizing. I was so awful at school. Completely awful. I wouldn’t have wanted to befriend me, either.”

“But I can’t help but think…” Jaime sighed. “ _Acho_ …maybe if I had tried to spend time with you at school, you might’ve gotten out from under Elle’s thumb sooner.”

His date’s gaze once again fell to study her fingernails. Calvin maneuvered around the coffee table to sit next to Meg on the couch.

“Veronica, I…” Jaime’s voice died out and he cleared his throat. “I really like you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at him.

“I’ve really liked you for a really long time,” he admitted, his neck tinging red. “Remember when Miss Antoinette first became our director? She had us do those ridiculous icebreakers even though most of us had already been there for months?”

From the moment of his confession, Veronica’s face had gradually started to relax. Though she didn’t smile, her voice was lighter when she said, “She partnered us up by age, so we got put together. We hadn’t really talked before then.”

“Two truths and a lie,” Jaime continued. “You told me that your favorite hobby is scrapbooking, that you had a dog named Bella who died a couple years ago, and that you think I’m cute. I completely fell for it. I thought the last one was a lie. But it wasn’t.”

For the first time since the conversation began, a semblance of a smile graced Veronica’s face. “I’ve never made a scrapbook in my life.”

“And you said—”

“—‘I may be joking,” they quoted in unison, “but I’m not lying.’”

Veronica let out a huff that might’ve been a quiet laugh.

“That’s when first started liking you,” Jaime said softly. “Because maybe you didn’t like me then, but you weren’t afraid to give me a genuine compliment. Even if you did hide it behind a joke.”

Veronica shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. But she didn’t drop her gaze from his.

Jaime dug a small white case out of his pocket, opening it and taking out a set of wireless earbuds. He handed her one. She raised an eyebrow at him, the teensiest of smiles tugging at her mouth.

“AirPods? Really?”

“They’re my brother’s,” Jaime replied sheepishly. “He got a new phone for his birthday. Don’t worry, they’re clean.”

Veronica slowly put the earbud in her ear. Jaime did the same, then queued up a song on his phone. Calvin could tell the exact moment when the music began; Veronica’s eyes lit up and her small smile started to widen.

“Of course,” she whispered. Then, she looked at Jaime and said cheekily, “‘Check Yes, Juliet’? I see your music taste hasn’t improved.”

Something in the way her demeanor had shifted seemed to relieve Jaime. A grin spread across his face. “You know you love it. It’s practically your theme song.”

“Oh it is, is it?”

“Mmm-hmm. Now…” Jaime stood, bowed—literally _bowed_ —and offered Veronica his hand. “May I have this dance _, ¿mi princesa?_ ”

Veronica’s smile grew so big that dimples appeared on her cheeks. She placed her hand in his. “ _Sí_ , Romeo.”

Jaime looked like someone had just told him that he won the lottery. He pulled Veronica to her feet and guided her to an open area. Together they began to dance to music only they could hear, their laughter filling the room as Jaime twirled Veronica around. Neither seemed to remember that they were in a café, not their theatre—then again, neither seemed to care.

The endearing scene put a wide smile on Calvin’s face. He looked at Meg and saw that she had a throw pillow pressed to her face. “What are you doing?”

“What am _I_ doing?” Meg’s voice was muffled by the pillow. “What are _they_ doing? We’re in public! People are staring!”

Calvin laughed. He tried to pull the pillow away, but she used it to swat him over the head.

“I’m gonna die,” Meg moaned. “I’m gonna die of embarrassment. Stars, I can _feel_ my soul leaving my body. Look at what you’ve done.”

“I am looking.” Calvin watched as Veronica tried to show Jaime how to waltz. “It’s fantastic. I haven’t see Veronica smile like that in…ever.”

After a couple seconds, Meg peeked over the tasseled hem of the pillow. “…Neither have I.”

She was so distracted that she didn’t fight Calvin when he took the pillow out of her hands. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drew her against him, and rested his head atop of hers.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.

Twisting so she could look him in the eyes, Meg asked, “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

She smiled at that but still poked him in the stomach. “Tell me.”

Calvin twirled one of her curls around his finger. “I’m proud of how you’ve been dealing with the whole Veronica-thing. I know you haven’t forgiven her, but you’re still tolerating her and helping her. A lot of people couldn’t do that.”

“You could.”

“I don’t know about that.” 

Meg snuggled closer to him. “I do.”

 

* * *

 

Jaime’s house sat on the corner of Cimarron and West 20th. Since he lived the closest to the Blu Elefant, they had all decided to walk him home together. But when they arrived, Meg and Calvin hovered on the sidewalk under a palm at the side of his house, their view of the porch blocked by a tall wooden fence, while Veronica escorted Jaime to his door.

Anxiety made Veronica’s palms sweat, but excitement almost had her skipping. Jaime _liked_ her. Actually, officially, undeniably, _liked_ her. The knowledge had given her enough confidence to open up and talk during the date. Once she did, the stories began—tale after tale of theatre antics delivered by Jaime with such dramatics that even Meg was left in stitches. Calvin spent the rest of the date with a surprised but jovial smile. Veronica suspected that he hadn’t seen this theatrical side of his best friend before.

When they reached the front door, Jaime turned to face Veronica. At some point he had started fiddling with his necklace, which he normally kept hidden under his shirt. She didn’t know the story behind it, but he would always fuss with the dog tags before a performance or a test at school.

“You should never play poker,” Veronica blurted out. Jaime tilted his head, confused, and she pointed lamely at his necklace. “You—you, uh, have a tell.”

“Oh.” Jaime’s neck turned red and he tucked the tags back under his shirt. “I don’t really know anything about poker.”

“Me neither. I mean, I’ve seen _Ocean’s Eleven_ , but…yeah. That and your hair. You play with your hair when you’re nervous, too.”

“And you mess with your phone case,” Jaime noted. “I’m surprised you haven’t broken it yet.”

Veronica let out a quiet chuckle. “I did actually break my last case doing that.”

He echoed her laugh; afterwards, silence stretched between them. But it only endured a moment, cut short by Jaime clearing his throat. “Veronica…I had fun. _De verdad_. I know things started out awkward, but I always enjoy spending time with you.”

Her heart flew up into her throat. “I feel the same,” she replied, voice soft.

Jaime reached for his necklace; then, he paused, laughed self-consciously, and dropped his hand. Knowing that he appeared to be just as nervous as she was made Veronica feel a little braver, though nausea still churned her stomach.

What Jaime had said earlier, about her not being afraid to compliment him, had been wrong. She had been terrified that he’d think she was creepy or coming on to him when, at the time, she had only wanted to make him smile. But she hadn’t let her fear stop her then.

Why should she let it stop her now?

So, right as Jaime opened his mouth to speak, Veronica took his face in her hands and kissed him. It lasted only a second, but she felt a thrill race across her skin from head to toe. When she pulled away, she took a step back to gauge Jaime’s reaction. Surprise brightened his eyes. A smile spread slowly across his face.

“It was the song, wasn’t it?”

A startled giggle left Veronica’s lips and she buried her burning face in her hands. “Oh my word.”

“I take it that’s your way of…”

“Don’t say it, don’t you say it—”

“…checking yes, Juliet?”

Groaning, Veronica turned away from Jaime and tried to hide the fact that she was grinning ear-to-ear.

But then she felt Jaime’s hand against her elbow, turning her back to face him. He tapped at her fingers and she peeked through them.

“‘Then have my lips the sin that they have took,’” he quoted with a small smirk.

Veronica lowered her hands. “Hey, that’s Juliet’s line—”

The moment her hands fell away he kissed her, softer and slower than she had kissed him. Veronica felt a pressure in her chest, as if helium was filling her lungs and threatening to lift her off her feet. She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him back.

Insecurities, fears, and suspicions still mulled about in the back of her mind, but for now, Veronica allowed herself to enjoy this moment for as long as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥︎


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